


It's Only Her Story

by chocorango



Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon), Tangled (2010)
Genre: Fix-It of Sorts, basically this is a continuation to destinies collide, because it's a fun series but jesus christ, enjoy, have pity on me, i'm a new kid, mostly just a mess, oh also a bit of an amnesia AU, so ugh, there are questionable things in this series lmao, trying my best sorry, um so
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2020-05-12 07:17:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19224310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocorango/pseuds/chocorango
Summary: Destinies have collided, and now Cass is the moonstone's owner. The crew run far, far away from the new threat, back to their beloved home kingdom- and yet, when they get there, no one can quite shake off the feeling that something is terribly off.





	1. Chapter 1

 The sky was a dauntless blue, the kind of sky you’d smile at as you leaned out of your window. The breeze that weaved its way through the trees was just as comforting, and yet there was no comfort today for Rapunzel.

 All the crew-or what was left of it, of course- stared up at the sky with a grimace, and slowly dismounted off the makeshift buggy they had built- a far cry from the homely caravan they had grown attached to. The weather was beautiful, warm and serene, and they were on the outskirts of the kingdom they had left more than a year ago.

Nothing seemed wrong, and yet- Rapunzel stared at the rickety buggy, almost feeling the absence of the one who had not gone with them back home- the one whose hold they had narrowly escaped from.

Eugene was the first one who decided they could not stand like scarecrows outside the kingdom.

“Hey,” he said, reaching out to take Rapunzel’s hand and holding it tight, with a slow, tentative smile playing on his lips, “Look, sunshine, we’re home.”

As much as Cass still weighed on Rapunzel’s mind, she could not help but smile in return.

“Yes,” she answered, as the breeze drifted through her hair, “We are.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------

   The castle was as fine as it had ever been, watching over the houses of its kingdom and perched higher up than any one. The water surrounding the kingdom gleamed in the midday light, and fishermen and merchants alike waded its waters, chatting with each other as they peeked at their catch of the day in between complaints and protests. The bridge that connected the outside world to the kingdom was not far from the crew, and the fields and grassy plains that led to the bridge was filled with ripe fruits and fresh flowers.

It was, all in all, a perfect day for returning home.

  “That is _very_ strange,” a voice suddenly broke the crew’s silence.

Lance, who had, since the Unspeakable Incident Where Someone Had Grabbed The Moonstone, been oddly and worryingly silent, repeated himself.

 “That is strange,” he said and ran his hand over an old, yet unblemished tree, “where have all the rocks gone?”

The crew exchanged shocked looks. All the relief of getting back, all the joy of seeing their home again- they had flat out forgotten what the kingdom had looked like when they left. The rocks had made a path for Rapunzel, and yet not all of them had smoothened themselves out like a welcome mat- and now?

The rocks were completely gone.

“Maybe they just gave up,” Eugene joked, but his eyes were much more troubled.

“Well, whatever is,” Lance heaved himself from his uncomfortable position of leaning against a gnarled, ancient tree, “There are more pressing matters.”

His tone was light, but still Rapunzel could feel that heavy weight on her shoulders again. Her worst mistake had been thinking she was blameless. That was indeed a dangerous mindset- one that, not checked, could lead to hurt- and it had: twice, in her case.

She wanted to curl up in to a ball and disappear. Only two days ago they had met a wandering merchant who had been selling scabbards, beautifully ornate ones made out of tough material. She had excitedly chatted up the merchant, excited to see his collection, and had spotted the most beautiful scabbard she had ever seen. She had immediately taken it in her hands, turning around to show it to her best friend, when-

Rapunzel had stopped, whirling around only to face a tree.

Her best friend wasn’t with them, and she had tried to hurt them. There was no one to buy the scabbard for.

She sighed. It was of no use to just think about what had happened now- they had to be focused, to explain the situation to the King and Queen, to find a solution.

“All right, then,” the lost princess forced a smile and sauntered on, “Let’s get on with it.”

\-----------------------

“Lance, _no,”_ the former thief quickly snatched his friend’s hand away from the red, shiny apple he had been reaching for. The road to the bridge was just lines of orchards and fresh produce, and the crew couldn’t remember the last time they had seen such a tempting sight.  

“It’s only one apple,” Lance complained, “The farmers won’t notice.”

Eugene sighed, exasperated. “You forgot the time we stole a chicken.”

“Ah, the chicken witch hunt,” Lance scoffed, reaching for the apple again, “It was a chicken, not an apple.”

 Rapunzel laughed, disguising it as a cough, and Eugene immediately leapt to deflect his friend’s quick hands. There was a brief moment when it seemed like Lance had gleefully gotten his prize and avoided his irritated friend when-

CRASH

The whole crew immediately froze as a figure leapt from the trees to head dive Lance, effectively knocking him over and leaving the apple untouched and uneaten. Rapunzel immediately pointed her pan at the intruder, and Eugene immediately contributed as well, letting out a confused yelp.

“MY APPLE,” Lance whined from his place on the floor, but the crew could only stare at the figure dusting itself off and huffing in disapproval.

“I don’t understand any of you,” the figure said, haughtily, “Stealing my apples and pointing weapons at me? What are you, barbarians?”

Absolute silence.

Absolute chaos.

Rapunzel swallowed hard and did not lower her trusty frying pan. Eugene could only grip Lance's hands in an attempt to make him shut up about his prized apple.

A chubby raccoon immediately leapt from the trees to rest on the figure's shoulder, chittering excitedly. Big blue eyes stared at the crew with annoyance, and Rapunzel snapped out of her trance.

"What are _you_ doing here?" she demanded, noting the strange absence of the googles on the boy's head.

"Excuse you, but this is _my_ orchard," Varian-not-quite-Varian glared at the princess, "These are _my_ apples, and I'll have you know the destruction of one apple will cost you around eight silver coins a piece."

"What."

Something was a little strange, and as Lance started to argue that the eating of an apple was not exactly the destruction of one, Rapunzel exchanged glances with a petrified Eugene.

"Varian-" Eugene squinted a little, as if he still couldn't believe his eyes, "Do the King and Queen _know_ you're here, or..." 

Varian turned away from Lance, who had given up on the negotiation, grumbling. 

"What? Of course they do. I'm an apple picker, not their son," he scoffed, petting Ruddiger almost absentmindedly. 

The crew exchanged glances, and Rapunzel saw Eugene raise his eyebrows in doubt. 

"Also," and here Varian lugged a basket from behind a tree and picked the apple Lance had so longingly reached for, "How in the world did you know my name was Varian?"

 


	2. The Apple Picker

  The walk back to the castle was a silent one. The water still gleamed under the sunlight, and the people of the kingdom were still squabbling over prices and laundry, but Rapunzel could feel how the sun somehow seemed to beat people’s heads harsher that what she remembered, how the water that surrounded the kingdom seemed to surge a little more desperately, pushing the docks and the boats impatiently.  
No. Rapunzel shook her head. She was back, everything was fine, she was just a little shaken.  
\------

  
 “This _really_ isn’t funny,” Eugene had been almost aghast when the younger boy had asked them how they could possibly know his name, “If this another trick of yours, young man, or a plot, or a plan-“

 “First of all, these are all synonyms,” Varian had started to gather more apples, letting Ruddiger eat one with a defeated sigh, “Also, I’ve been up all morning trying to take our chicken’s eggs, and surprise! They all managed to take revenge on me. I would appreciate it if you let me tend to my wounds alone. I have an apple orchard to run, and quite frankly _you_ are ruining my business.”

  
Lance deflected the glares directed very specifically at him and, still on the ground, squinted at the boy. “Aren’t you the wizard boy?” he asked, almost deliriously.

 “Must you bother me?” lugging a ladder from behind one of the trees, Varian seemed to genuinely be annoyed- but in the most innocent sense of the word. No hate whatsoever, no revenge. Just a slight bit of annoyance and a whole lot of confusion. “If you’re searching for a wizard or whatever, just go search in the kingdom.”  
 “Kid.” Here Eugene started to look angry, “You can stop now, we aren’t here for any trouble, but if you have something up your sleeve, you should know-“  
“Oh, that?” Varian pulled up his sleeve a bit, and for a second Rapunzel could see something wasn’t quite right- but he quickly pulled out a feather and rearranged his sleeve to cover his arm, “This was probably Mari’s work. She pecks the hardest.”

Eugene, at this point, was completely lost.  
“Well!” Rapunzel cut in. Whatever was happening was undoubtedly strange, and as she doubted Varian would appreciate being lugged to the castle, she figured she would have to deal with it sneakily, “You know, I have heard that the King is reconsidering paying apple-pickers such low wages.”  
 Varian perked up, his blue eyes widening, but his voice remained neutral. “It’s probably just rumors,” he shook his head.  
“Not at all,” she shook her head in return, solemnly, “I’ve come to the kingdom just to discuss it, and your input would greatly-“  
 “ _Really_?” Varian slid down the ladder, his eyes sparkling with excitement, and immediately started rambling, “Of course Ruddiger would have to take care of the apples, even though it’s not the best choice ,although I suppose if I gave him some apples, he wouldn’t, no wait, foil that plan, he is pretty greedy….”  
 Rapunzel stopped, and took a step back, shaken. She had plain forgotten what he had used to be like, before…everything. She took a deep breath.  
“You are welcome to come before the evening,” she tried to smile, but Varian’s eyes, wide and innocent, almost made her falter. She turned to Eugene.  
“Eugene,” she almost pleaded, “Let’s go.”  
Eugene had smiled at her in return, sadly.  
“All right, Blondie,” he pointedly pushed Lance so he could start walking, “Let’s go.”

Before they had left however, Rapunzel had glanced back one more time at the boy and his apples. He had mentioned wounding himself under the wrath of merciless chickens, and yet- as she watched, he reached up for an apple higher up among the branches, and as his sleeve slipped, she saw deep scars running up and down his arms. Chemical burns.  
These were definitely not the work of chickens.  
\----------------------------------------------------------

  
 “Cass? _Cass_?” a voice woke Cassandra up and she sat up immediately, rubbing her eyes.  
The rocks around her were not the best bed, but she could not feel any pain or discomfort anymore. She felt powerful, more powerful than she had ever felt in her life. She felt secure.  
 “You know what you have to do,” the voice whispered in her ear, and yes, Cassandra knew.

  
 Dawn was rising, and Cassandra finally had purpose. She was not a servant, meek and obedient, set to follow every order the King and Queen gave. She was not bound by anyone, by anything, and that alone gave her more power than ever before.  
Behind that door, Cassandra understood- being selfish was not wanting power, glory or recognition- being selfish was being deaf to others. And that, somehow, made it easier to betray, made it easier to grab the moonstone.  
She hoped what she was doing was right. After all, she wanted glory, she wanted power. But she had not grabbed the moonstone because of that.  
Cassandra sighed. Thinking could wait, but for now- she had to act.

  
Cassandra had to steal the alchemist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cass is best girl.  
> Thank you for coming to my TED talk.


	3. Dreams

There was something familiar about it, if she had to admit.  
Sitting hunched on her bed, her knees drawn as close as she could get them to be, her hair around her, coiled around the room and heavy on her scalp- it was almost like Rapunzel was back in her old home, the tower, restless and tired, a wanderer whose entire world spanned only four walls.  
The King and Queen were absent from the castle, gone to the south of the kingdom to check on the potato harvest, which had apparently gone very poorly.  
“When will they be back?” she had asked Nigel, who had still been flustered from refusing to open the castle gates for the crew- until he had clearly spotted Rapunzel’s seventy feet of golden hair and almost fallen off the balcony, dashing off to shout to the guards.  
“Shortly,” Nigel had sputtered, fussing with the handle of one of the bronze-gilded windows in the hall and finally managing to shut it abruptly, “This dratted weather has been robbing us of approximately 3,583 potatoes, I think it would be a wonder if they return for dinner-“  
“The weather?” Rapunzel frowned at the blue sky outside the window, fluffed up with the lazy coatings of clouds, “It’s not so bad, I-“  
“Oh no, I’ll tell you what’s bad,” Nigel had stormed off to close another window, every crease of his face lined with suspicion and conviction, “Four days ago, we were finally about to invite the Baron and his gag of a family over to a royal dinner, because yes! Finally! He had promised to deliver more lands and feed more people! How noble, how kind, considering he’s been a Baron for more years than you would multiply my age!”  
Here Rapunzel glanced at Nigel, briefly, and Nigel, flinging another window shut, sighed. “Don’t try to do the math, I’m old.”  
“Nigel,” Rapunzel still had to hear his point, “The weather.”  
“Yes, yes, I’m getting to it, your highness,” Nigel had suddenly stopped his aggressive window-shutting, “We had snow.”  
“Snow?” Rapunzel hadn’t liked the sound of that, “How?”  
Nigel had sighed, yet again, and Rapunzel knew the answer before he said it.  
“We’re not sure,” he had said, “But it definitely wasn’t natural, your highness.”  
\--------------  
Sitting on her bed, staring at the painted ceiling, Rapunzel could not bring herself to call Eugene or Lance to talk to them. The minute they had stepped in the castle, Lance had set some sort of world record and almost catapulted himself onto a bed in one of the castle rooms, and Eugene had followed, albeit more slowly, flinging himself only after gently telling Rapunzel to get some rest.  
And Rapunzel wanted rest. She needed it. She supposed a little nap couldn’t hurt before chaos would reign, and she would have to tell her mother and father about Cass, and also deal with Varian beforehand.  
What a day. Rapunzel dug her fingernails into her pillow and curled up. Rest, rest, she told herself. Until finally, out of pure exhaustion, sleep overtook her.  
\--------  
Dreams, fragments of them.  
Back in the tower, Mother Gothel had given her a gift for her seventh birthday, a collection of stitched puppets, each with their own clothes and hair. Rapunzel, delighted, had brushed their hair, talked with them. They were her friends, her only ones. And yet-

“Why do Mary and Lily never talk to me?” Rapunzel buried her face in Mother Gothel’s dress, pouting.  
“Ah,” Mother Gothel said, and Rapunzel remembered her sharp face leaning down, heavy-lidded eyes resting heavily on Rapunzel’s hair, “Because you are so special, my flower. So special, whyever would you need talking puppets?”  
Mother Gothel’s face twisted, her face becoming softer, and on her head rested a cold, golden crown.  
“Yes,” King Fredric said in Gothel’s voice, and his smile, wholly unmatched with his voice yet in perfect tandem with his words, only widened, “You are so special, my flower.”  
The world turned dark, and now Rapunzel only saw Cassandra, her form blurry against a forest she did not recognize. Cass’ eyes were wide and innocent, devoid of any blue. Her sword lay far away from her, untouched, her hands reaching out for something that was bad, that was dangerous, and Rapunzel screamed in fear, reached out for her- but King Fredric pulled her back.  
“Whyever?” he asked, forcing Rapunzel to look into his eyes, brown as they were, ungrounded as they were, “It’s only ever been about you, my flower. How I love you, and yet puppets have no place here.”  
\-------  
Only darkness. Mother Gothel had burnt the puppets, and seven-year old Rapunzel had been alone once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drama me up bb


	4. The King and Queen and Everything Inbetween

 The world was so very bright, Varian mused, it was almost as if Corona’s sun was meaning to sunburn all of its citizens within an inch of their life.  
With a wheelbarrow in tow and Ruddiger perched on his head, chittering away, Varian began his way to the main gates of the kingdom. The gate was high and guarded by two friendly guards, and yet they too sweltered under the blazing sun and were grateful for the apple slices Varian had to offer them.  
 And yet, a ridiculous thought appeared in Varian’s jumbled brain as he passed the gates.  
_It was colder here._  
A strange thought. Illogical and impractical.  
And yet, Varian looked back when he entered the kingdom. He could almost see the outline of desperate footsteps in the snow, determined and calculated.  
And yet mostly, mostly useless.  
\--------  
  “Dad,” was the only word Rapunzel could utter as she saw her father, suited up in his robes and weighed down with the almost halo-like crown on his head. His face was somehow brighter than she remembered, face less lined with worry and eyes less glassy with the faint realization that he was hanging by a thread.  
 These same eyes lit up when he looked up from a scroll he was studying and saw his daughter coming towards him-his daughter who had disappeared from him yet again for a year.  
 “Rapunzel!”  
Rapunzel could only laugh, and along with Lance and Eugene, she stepped a little closer to the throne, and slowed down when she saw her mother’s seat, vacant and blaringly empty.  
 Before Rapunzel could comment on how strange it was for her mother to be absent from her duties, she was tackled into a warm, crushing hug- the King had left his throne as quickly as his feet could carry him to hug her.  
  “Dad, I-“ Rapunzel smiled at him, but quickly looked back at her mother’s throne again, “Where’s- where’s Mom?”  
The King froze, his smile still lingering on his face unconvincingly.  
“She’s down with the flu,” the King forced a bigger smile. He let go of Rapunzel’s sides, quickly, and stood up, his posture stiff and irregular, “My dear, I must attend to a few more villagers today, and afterwards we can discuss your trip a little more, I-“  
  “I know, I know,” Rapunzel laughed and took Eugene’s hand, “I just wanted to discuss some things with you, Dad- Cass- she stole the moonstone, Dad. I- I couldn’t stop her and I-“  
Rapunzel took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her ears. “Dad, I- I failed.”  
 “No,” the King sighed and gently took his daughter’s hand, “I’m so sorry about Cass, my dear.”  
Rapunzel let her hand drop. She could only think about Cass’ face, so troubled and worried, looking out for her, helping her.  
_Raps, it’s dangerous_  
_I don’t want you to get hurt_  
_Why can’t you **trust** me?_  
 People were all different, and Rapunzel knew how much Cass loved her- so much so she had only wanted to protect her- it was Cass’ decision, not the King’s, to protect Rapunzel in the end. Cass had only done things out of love and concern, and Rapunzel?  
 Rapunzel closed her eyes, and her shaky fingers untangled themselves from her father’s grip.  
 “Dad,” she started, and she could not fail her friends again, could not make the same mistakes again, “Varian- I, I know how you feel about him, but he’s coming here, and he doesn’t remember a thing, not who he used to be, not the battle of old Corona, and-“  
“My dear, of course, I don’t mind,” the King laughed, a genuine and amused laugh that took Rapunzel by surprise. She glanced behind at Eugene, who shot her back a baffled look.  
“Dad…” Rapunzel was suddenly scared, very much so, “You do remember Varian, don’t you?”  
And her father, who had so passionately demanded to be freed in Varian’s lab, who had so vehemently planned the downfall of the boy, looked down at Rapunzel, puzzled.  
“Who?”  
\------  
  “I don’t understand who you are,” the boy stared at her back with unyielding blue eyes, too stubborn to back down and too polite to shout, “But whoever you are, please put me down.”  
  Cassandra did not understand as well. She let go of Varian-not-Varian’s shirt, and he fell down hard on the grass, letting out a cry of pain.  
 Had she cornered the right person?  
  Cassandra stared back at Varian-not-Varian, and felt a pang of guilt as she saw him rubbing his arm, his raccoon hovering near him. He still had his oversized gloves and silly apron- that had to be him, really- but his ridiculous googles were gone, and he did not recognize her at all. A bit strange, that, given that the last time they had seen each other she had tried to attack him and he had almost crushed her. As you do.  
 “Varian,” Cassandra started, and hesitated, “Do you really not remember me?”  
   Fake Varian- Cassandra had decided to call him that- stared at her, a little shaken.       “Have I won something?” he asked, with a nervous giggle, “Why does everyone know my name?”  
 Cassandra sighed. It does not matter, the voice said, but somehow, deep down, it did.       “Well, kid,” Cassandra shook her head and helped Fake Varian up, “I’m sorry, but I must have mistaken you for someone else. Do you mind helping me find my way to the castle? I’m actually quite lost.”  
 “You seem to know the way quite well,” Fake Varian said weakly, but he dusted off his apron and went back for his wheelbarrow, “Although attacking me was a bit unexpected, I don’t mind leading you to the castle, I mean, as long as you stay about, um, eighteen steps behind me?”                           "Thank you,” Cassandra replied, a little awkwardly, and of course she would kidnap the boy, she had to, but she didn’t have to like it, did she?  
 Fake Varian took up his wheelbarrow clumsily and smiled a little nervously at Cassandra with eyes that were too kind, too helpful, too trusting, too blue, and Cass hated the fact that she smiled back, too.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back again with their buffonery? 'Tis I


	5. The Mother

  The room was pitch black, too dark for anyone’s taste. The heavy velvet curtains snuffed out any light that dared enter, and only outlines could be seen- slight and blurried, they did not help Rapunzel from tripping over her mother’s shoe. She yelped as she felt the shoe touch her bare feet, and in the shadows, the outline of a figure suddenly rose.

 “Mom?” Rapunzel stopped and sighed in relief when she vaguely recognized the hazy figure, “It’s me, Mom.”

 Vaguely recognized was the key word, though, wasn’t it? Rapunzel could barely see her mother’s head, much less her face or hands. Strange, again. Why was everything strange?

Even her father's reaction, to her proclaiming she wanted to see her mother- he had just agreed, resigned, unbothered. As if the darkened room, the illness, the whole situation, was a thing that had been happening for a while now, with no way out of it. It worried Rapunzel, undoubtedly. 

 Warily, Rapunzel trudged her way towards the windows and with a flick of her wrist and the unceremonious surrender of the old curtains, she opened the curtains, and light finally flooded the room, dusty beams of light that finally boldened the flimsy outline of the room. Arianna, her beloved mother, was propped up in a big, ornate bed and-

-and she looked terrible.

 “Mom!” Rapunzel immediately rushed over to her side, worried. Her mother’s hair, always so brown and lush, was a tangled mess, and her eyes, usually so warm and quiet, were rimmed with red, bloodshot and startled. A sickly stranger was staring back at Rapunzel, wrapped in furs and cloth, terrified of the light, terrified of the clarity, and terrified at seeing Rapunzel.

  “Rapunzel,” her mother’s voice (hadn’t it been higher before? Merrier? Rapunzel did not know) almost startled Rapunzel as well, “You can’t be here.”

 “Oh, Mom,” a nervous chuckle escaped Rapunzel, and she leant over to put her hand over her mother’s, “It’s fine, I, I won’t catch anything, I’ll have you know I’ve a pretty strong immunity, I- ”

 “Rapunzel.” Her mother grabbed Rapunzel’s arm roughly, not missing a beat. Rapunzel let out a cry of pain- her mother’s hold was inescapable. “Rapunzel, you can’t stay here anymore. You have to go.”

  “Mom!” Rattled, Rapunzel tried to wriggle out of her mother’s grip, but it was strong, cold- _isn’t she supposed to be ill?_ \- and Rapunzel suddenly saw her mother’s hands.

“Mom!” Rapunzel wrenched her mother’s hands closer, “Why- What- What is this?”

Her mother’s hands were too familiar a sight. Deep scars, gashes in the skin, burns of every kind.

 Chemical burns.

Her mother’s hands were almost a copy of Varian’s.

 “Where did you get this?” Rapunzel tore her gaze from the injured hands, and stared worriedly into her mother’s eyes, “Mom, what is happening? Dad doesn’t remember Varian, you haven’t been this sick since my birth, and the rocks- the rocks!”

“Rapunzel,” her mother’s eyes, exhausted and sorrowful, met Rapunzel’s without hesitation, “Promise me you’ll get out of here.”

Rapunzel did not waver.

 “Mom,” she exclaimed, and looked deep into her mother’s eyes, a mirror of her own since birth, “Please, you have to tell me what is going on.”

Her mother, the first who had recognized her own daughter after years of separation, the one who had held her daughter’s hand and was kind when all was rocks and failure and broken promises, only smiled.

 “It’s always been your story,” she relented, reaching out to run her hands through Rapunzel’s hair, “As long as you’re here, the curse will stay.”

\-----------

  “I can see you’re very keen on kidnapping me,” Varian’s muffled voice was just as irritatingly chipper as the first time Cassandra had heard it, “And I’m very much Not Going Anywhere, so….what is your name?”

Cassandra sighed. Heavens, did the boy ever shut up? She had tied him up in a sack and was wheeling him neatly out of the kingdom, and yet it seemed not even kidnapping could stop the kid’s upbeat mood and aggravating curiosity.

 “Varian,” Cassandra hissed through her teeth, stopping to smile and wave at the miller, “Will telling you my name make you stop talking?”

The sack that Cassandra had put in the boy’s wheelbarrow shifted a little.

 “I mean, not really,” Varian reasoned, “But you know my name, so…”

“Ughhhhhhh,” Cassandra resisted the urge to lasso the sack over her head and throw it in the docks, “Cassandra, all right? My name is Cassandra.”

 There was absolute silence after that. Cassandra breathed a sigh of relief- had Fake Varian finally decided to plot his escape quietly? - and continued wheeling the boy’s wheelbarrow out of the kingdom. Fake Varian continued being quiet even after she had long past left the kingdom’s gates, and soon enough the only sounds she could hear from the wheelbarrow were the occasional angry chittering of the raccoon, who had been tossed in with him.

 Cassandra did not know what to think. What had to be done had to be done- she knew as much, and heard as much- the voice was constantly reasoning with her, and she had no other argument but a grim agreement. And yet.

_The boy must die._

 And why? The voice had explained many times, her common sense had reaffirmed it twice as much, and yet she continued to ask herself that silly question like some sort of child. _It’s for the greater good, so that **it** won’t happen_\- why did it all sound like excuses?

Cassandra pinched her nose.

“Varian,” she struggled to continue, “Do you really not remember anything?”

At first, the sack gave no indication that it had heard, and then, slowly, a voice rose out of it, small and frail.

“I know you, don’t I?” the voice said slowly, carefully, “You’re Cassie.”

 Cassandra smiled, defeated, even though she knew he wouldn’t see. She had been there when Varian had asked for help-and she had heard after from Rapunzel that her father had been in grave danger, and she had not done anything. She had called him friend, and yet she had disregarded his plea for help, just like Rapunzel. The princess had been disappointed in herself for the mess after the storm, and yet as much as it seems like it, disappointment has no higher place than danger.

 Being crushed by that automaton, facing death against a foe she knew- Cassandra had finally felt free. Truly, now she could hate Varian, fair and square, blame him for something when before he had been only blameless.

But Cassandra could not blame Varian, no matter how hard she tried.

 “We didn’t do anything,” Cassandra had said, after that fateful night, when the night sky was too dark for anybody’s taste, and a small, furious boy had been shackled and taken far, far away.

There was something more to be said, Cassandra had felt it, and so she had said it out loud, out of earshot of the princess and her prince, the princess and her prince who were reassuring one another that everything was fine;

 

 “And that I think, is the worst thing of all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys,,,,,,, thanks you for your comments, you guys are honestly the bee's knees, the yee to my haw, the beets to my deets…... i'll stop now  
> anyways as always, thank you for reading and don't be afraid to write down whatever, even if it is to tell me that an inanimate object could write better than me (╯✧∇✧)╯


	6. The Cell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry lol

  Thirty-five notches, scrapped into the stone of the cell, cliché and clumsy, and yet somehow comforting. Daylight was rare in the cell, flitting in and out now and then, never staying for long. If any guard were to really pay attention to the living souls behind the bars, they would’ve been confused at some of its inhabitants, and mostly of all at the young boy sitting quietly in the corner of his cell, watching, always watching.

For Varian, things weren’t as they should be. He had been in the cell a month, useless, dazed. There were times he woke up and could not understand where he was.

 Dad should have been beside him, complaining again about his experiments and failures. The princess should have come again for help, worried, always worried. Cassandra should’ve rolled her eyes at him again, visibly snorting if his crush on her was any more obvious than it always was.

All of that was gone, wasn’t it?

Thirty-five days had passed since that night, and yet Varian could still see the weak red light of his automaton, could still feel the moment when he realized that Dad wasn’t going anywhere, he would be staying right there in the lab, where nothing worked and where his son had failed.

Varian was alone, and it was her fault. Yes, it was all Rapunzel’s fault. He would bring the princess down, would stop at nothing to win. _He_ would win, and Rapunzel- the lost princess, the miracle of miracles- would fail.

 On the thirty-sixth day in his cell, Varian started coughing. The air was cold and there was nothing to warm the cell. Everything was damp and cold. Comfort and warmth were rare things in the cells, and revenge was only a flimsy blanket. And still, still- Varian would not give up, not until Rapunzel rued the day she had come back to Corona.

 On the thirty-eighth day, Varian had gotten a fever. “Do you all want me to die in these cells?” he had hissed at the guards during their shift, spitting at their feet from afar. He feared that maybe they all did want him dead. How long had he been a different Varian? Not long. The Varian from before had only wanted to please people, to be recognized through his awe-inspiring inventions, and to be feared and hated was still entirely alien to him. Scowling, he tried to go back to his sulking in the corner, but blacked out before he could take another step.

  And thus like a tower of everything lost, the fortieth day came crashing down. Weak from hunger, ill and desperate, Varian woke up at daybreak, before the King and Queen had even stirred.

Everything felt frail, as breakable and sharp as glass. With one shaky hand, Varian had managed to prop himself up.

  “You almost murdered me,” said a voice, and Varian, muddled and bleary, was not surprised to see Cassandra in his cell. A hallucination. He had never had one before, and he was too feverish to be unnerved. She was standing far away, her face gentle, and yet incredibly sad. When she moved, he could see her middle was unnaturally flat and twisted- he had almost crushed her to death, hadn’t he?

 “I almost did,” whispered Varian, leaning his head against the stone of the cell walls. It was so cold, too cold. His tongue felt heavy, and he fought to keep his eyes open. He wanted to say something else, but-

 Daybreak left the kingdom of Corona, and the sun rose higher still. On the forty-second day the curse would hit, but by then Varian would already be two days dead.

\---------

 “He died,” Rapunzel repeated.

_You promised._

“He did,” her mother’s voice was harsh against the cold room.

 All Rapunzel could see was a short, slightly buck-toothed, nervous young boy with an oversized raccoon by his side, promising her that he’d never tell anyone about the rocks, promising the princess that he’d do as she said.

She knew, now, that he had been in his cell for forty days, but she didn’t know how long he had been in that cold, dark lab, or how long he had waited till he had tried to find help, or how many times he had tried to beg people for help before they turned him away.

 

 Eugene had died too, once, hadn't he? Rapunzel remembered his closed eyes, how still he had been. She had been alone in that dark tower, only a small chittering chameleon to keep her company. Alone, and scared. She was desperate, then, hysterical- who else would save Eugene, if not her?

The answer had been nobody.

Rapunzel took a deep breath and turned back to her mother. One thing at a time, one thing at a time…

“Why is Varian alive now?”

\--------

 

_And in years past, next to none,_

_there lived a King of gold and stone._

_His daughter thus he loved to death,_

_His ears well-tuned to her every breath_.

_The cries of people, so far off,_

_Would not amuse the King thereof._

_At dawn there climbed a man so slight,_

_With a pipe of steel, a tune so light._

_And the princess, of her own,_

_To hear him she would come alone._

_And thus the King, well pleased with him,_

_Sent for him ( to fulfill his every whim)_

_And the man, for what did he ask? -_

_“For food, my king, ‘tis a simple task.”_

_And there the King cut him off,_

_Stern as steel, hard as rocks,_

_For the princess’ delicate ears,_

_Would only sadden at his fears._

_And thus came daybreak, nether- bound,_

_With a tune so sweet and sound_

_For while another child dead of hunger was then found-_

_The princess had disappeared from the earth and from the ground._

_And there’s the lesson, it’s simple, watch out,_

_What’s wrong is wrong- there is no doubt._


	7. Chemical burns

Cass had been born to defend, born to act when the others could not, born to be the first to unsheathe her sword and finish off any threats that might linger, cleanly, evenly, and thoroughly. She had trained countless of times with the best of soldiers, she had left renowned defenders in the dust, had impressed even the toughest of judges with her tact and skill.

Then why, in the name of all that was unholy, couldn’t she babysit a fifteen-year old for more than a day?

Not that Fake Varian was causing any trouble- surprising really, sort of a relief, wasn’t it? He was just sitting silently in that sack, obedient, very compliant- _oh my god is the kid all right?_

 Cassandra stopped in her tracks and whirled around, panicked, and opened the sack, ignoring the fact that her fingers were shaking- why, why was she so worried? The kid would have to die anyway-

Blue eyes stared at her with suspicion.

 “Uh, hi,” said Fake Varian, and Cassandra noticed his outraged raccoon curled up near his feet, glaring at her, clearly the sane one out of all of them in this situation.

Cassandra sighed in defeat, and narrowed her eyes at the boy and his raccoon.

 “You’re too heavy,” she stated, matter-of-fact, even though she was literally carrying him in a wheelbarrow and the kid had never weighed more than a paper bag of feathers.

“Oh.” Fake Varian looked little apologetic, “Well, my dad always said whoever would be dumb enough to kidnap me probably wouldn’t have a good time.”

 That took Cassandra aback. Did he….did he remember Quirin? She doubted he would, else he would’ve been much more than just apologetic.

“You’ll have to walk,” she stated gruffly, trying to think less, turning her back on Fake Varian, enough to make him understand he was no threat to her, but also just enough for Cassandra to keep a close eye on him. Yet still, a little bit of insurance-

 “If you even try to escape,” Cassandra had always been rather good at threats-“I’ll make sure the raccoon gets it.”

 The boy and the raccoon exchanged looks.

-

 The woods had never been a friendly place, deep and gnarly and dark, all branches and wild animals. The silence was what made the place most unsettling; whatever you said, every step you took, was loud and unforgiving, and annoyed everyone to no end at all.

Cassandra loved the woods. After a year of travelling with a loud, noisy group, there was nothing she thought she would appreciate more than a bit of isolation.

And yet, as an hour crept by, it struck Cassandra that perhaps, she missed it.

She missed Rapunzel jumping up behind her, chatting non-stop, excitedly. She missed Lance chewing his food obnoxiously beside her, non-plussed by her many threats and curses. She even missed that absolute disaster Eugene. There was nothing wrong with missing, was there? It was not _really_ a weakness, just a side-effect-

Cassandra found herself talking. Curses.

 “I guess,” she hesitated, scolding herself for opening her mouth, “I guess you don’t remember much, huh, Varian?”

Varian quickly looked up at Cassandra, one hand on his racoon- Ruddiger- Cassandra remembered- curled up on his shoulders. “Um,” he answered, nervously smiling, “Not really? I only- I only remember- “

Varian stopped petting Ruddiger.

“It was cold,” Varian whispered, abruptly, and looked a little startled at his willing input.

 “Cold?” Cassandra snorted, “Ever since that big storm, all Corona had was sunshiney days, I wouldn’t have survived one more flower crown-“

“ _No_ ,” Varian cut off, “Not a storm. After. It was cold. That’s what I remember.”

 “Huh,” Cassandra stared at the boy. Before now, she had never asked, had never known, what had happened with Varian after they had defeated him. Guilt crept up on her like the absolute menace it was- wasn’t she just as bad as any protagonist, disposing of the antagonist as soon as they were done and tossing them out like they were-

No. No. No guilt. Cassandra’s job was guiltless, stainless.

“You were there too,” Varian couldn’t meet her eyes, “And you said…you said I had almost murdered you.”

“I was there too, huh?” What in the blazes? Cassandra had heard a lot of very creative hallucination stories in her lifetime, but this…

Something in Cassandra’s usually stoic face must have given the truth away, because Varian looked up sharply, his eyes unusually vacant.

 “Why would I do that?” he asked, almost expecting an answer, "Why in the world would I try to murder you?"

Cassandra’s face twisted, her fingers twitching on the stinging blue of the moonstone.

“I don’t know,” scowled Cassandra, “And I don’t care to know, either.”

Cassandra had always been a bad liar.

-

There must have been a reason, must have been some sort of match to light the flame.

Varian could not remember much, it was true, but why on earth would he try to murder someone? It didn’t seem like a possible outcome for any sort of situation he could dream up- and he had already dreamt up four hundred and fifty-one possible situations.

He was an apple picker. He picked apples. Why would he try to murder this Cassie- this glowy woman with a questionable habit of kidnapping and threatening people? Even if she was pretty cute and not the worst kidnapper he could think of, given the circumstances.

Nothing made sense, and as Varian curled up near a tree and tried to fall asleep, he could only pinpoint one thing that was comprehensible in this mess.

 Anger. Deep rooted and ugly, reaching deep inside of him, anger that lingered.

Now _why_ on earth would he be so angry at someone?

-

Dawn was startling, sharp, and Cassandra awoke with the voice inside her head hissing.

_You failed._

 “W-What?” the voice had been oddly silent for the entire kidnapping fiasco, but now it burned her head, twisting her insides, and Cassandra stumbled, scared, losing her balance.

A yelp, and Cassandra came face-to-face with a startled racoon, whose tail was stuck underneath her.

 Angrily, Cassandra got up. She had no intention whatsoever of being threatened.

  “I didn’t fail,” Cassandra announced to the voice, shakily, but firmly, “The alchemist! His racoon is still here, he is still-“

Desperately, she whirled around to the tree where Fake Varian had fallen asleep. He was still there, but-

 “Varian?” Cassandra whispered, “W-What are you doing?”

 Fake Varian had never fallen asleep, so it would seem. His gloves were kicked aside, his eyes were red and bloodshot- and he was crying, hysterically, clutching vials and bottles of hissing chemicals, all sickly neon, all undoubtedly toxic.

“What are you doing?” scowled Cassandra again, and the boy turned to her, choking.

 “M-My dad,” he spit out, “I- I have to save-“

The chemicals fell from his hands, clumsy and untethered, and the nauseating smell of flesh crept in the air, and Fake Varian tried to salvage the chemicals, unbothered by his burning hands, or the toxic fumes, or the sharp glass that would dig at his skin or the-

 “Varian, **stop**.”

Before Varian could let out another breath, Cassandra took his shoulders, harshly, mercilessly, and with a clean, direct swipe of her hand, slapped him.

“W-What?” Varian’s toxic hand almost grazed his cheek, but Cassandra immediately slapped it away, “W-What was that for?!”

 “You’ve done worse,” Cassandra countered coldly, and suddenly, suddenly, all the things she hadn’t said, because she was Cassandra and she was cold and unbothered and-

“You always make it so difficult, Varian,” she wasn’t shouting, wasn’t angry, she was just being reasonable, being objective, the fact that she was twisting Varian’s shoulder wasn’t relevant- “You…always…make it….so difficult.”

 “H-Hey,” Varian was terrified now, trying to wriggle out of Cassandra’s grip, “I-I don’t, Cassie, I don’t remember what I did! I’m sorry, all right? I- I don’t-“

Cassandra stopped twisting his shoulder, shaken by how angry she was, but by then it did not matter, because dawn had come and these scared blue eyes had slowly disappeared along with it.

Cassandra was alone, yet again.

 

-

Varian woke up sharply, the light of Corona’s sun flitting viciously through the woods.

“R-Ruddiger?” his voice sounded strange to him, innocent and small.

The light of the day was still weak, and yet he could hear people from afar, could hear the water surging against the docks, a new day of work awaiting him-

_What?_

 Varian jerked up. He wasn’t anywhere near the edge of the kingdom, he wasn’t anywhere near Cassie- he was in his apple orchards, again. _His_ apple orchards?

His head hurt so much, and the more Varian tried to clutch his head, the worse it got. His hands were shaking, and the apple trees around him were blurry, faded.

 He had been like this- like this- for a year now. Day in, day out. Taking care of apples. The same day, over and over again, waking up in the outskirts of the kingdom, befittingly, and re-setting over and over again, alone. As he had always been, as he always would be.

 Varian got up unsteadily, shaking. His hands were still burnt, scarred, still hidden under thick gloves.

Daylight was coming fast, people were re-setting the same day they had been living for over a year now.

But not Varian. Because clearly, among the blurry backgrounds, between the mess of what was real, what wasn’t- one face stood out. A face that Varian did not intend to spare.

 _Princess_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello again! have risen from the dead again, have a spectacular day!!!!! ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


	8. No Choice

_Princess._

Rapunzel woke up in a cold sweat.

It was impossibly dark in her room, only a dim, feverish light flickering from behind the heavy curtains. The windows weren’t open, their handles shut tight, yet Rapunzel brought her blanket closer to her, shivering.

The cold rose up from the floorboards and crept up to the warm bed, and Rapunzel jumped up to fiddle with the handle of her window. Surely the cold was coming from the storage rooms underneath her room, perhaps a little sunshine would warm-

Rapunzel’s hand froze on the handle, her mind absolutely blank.

“It’s snowing,” she whispered, almost laughing with disbelief at the strange sentence, “It’s snowing.”

 The white, endless terrain spread before Rapunzel was no doubt a mirror of a memory, a memory of the first day she had seen these white flakes swirl around- first ever so gently, landing on children’s head and melting on people’s tongues, and then furiously, ripping the palace apart, bringing destruction and panic almost like-

Like a warning.

She hated it. Hated how she had only found her parents after years of nothing but a fake, fake mother. Hated how she had not only found her parents, but she had also inevitably found a failed kingdom.

Rapunzel sighed, and with a push of her hand swung the curtains back to where they were, covering the room, blocking the snow, blocking the blaring white kingdom and the dark sky above.

A new day.

In a manner of speaking.

-

 “When did _you_ get here?”

A stunned, booming voice made the master of thieves whirl around, fighting the natural urge to flee.

“Good morning, Captain!” Eugene managed a nervous chuckle- holy bimberries, did he not want to discuss the absence of a certain someone from the group to the Captain- “Ah haha- we came in yesterday, do you remember?”

“Yesterday?” the Captain looked at him, disbelieving.

“Yes, yes, you told me I looked just as bad as I always do – which in all fairness, is very rude and practically untrue but, uh-“

 Eugene stopped. The Captain was standing still, staring at Eugene as if he might’ve caught a case of insaneness in his travels. Not a rare look, and yet-

“I did no such thing, Fitzherbert,” the Captain sniffed, “But I do want to see my daughter again, so for the sake of keeping whatever fragile peace we have, I won’t argue. Now, where is she?”

 “Oh no,” Eugene replied, “Oh, _no_.”  

-

_You’re weak._

_You’re weak._

_You’re w-_

 “I’m not!” growled Cassandra.

God, how had she been so dumb? She had betrayed her best friend, snatched the moonstone from right under her destined nose, been granted power she could’ve have never even dreamed of, and all she had to do was this one simple, simple thing- _the boy, the alchemist must die_. After everything, she couldn’t even defeat an enemy, someone who had been inches away from murdering her-

_So, Cassandra, you’re really mad at yourself that you couldn’t murder a child?_

Great, now her conscience had a voice, too. Fantastic.

Trumping through the snow, Cassandra knew she had some choices to make. She could go back to the kingdom, and yet again try to find and murder Varian- even though he was the real Varian, not a fake one, a real, living one-

_There is a second option._

The voice was trying to offer her that absolutely stupid offer again. Absolutely not. If the voice thought that she would just give over herself like that, as if she didn’t know any better-

_Oh, well then. Too bad._

Before Cassandra could react, her eyesight blurred, her chest burning up. The moonstone started glowing, growing, bursting into flames-

“Hey! H-Hey! Stop it!” Cassandra clutched her chest. It was difficult to breathe. Even with all that had happened, with all that had happened- she was glad Rapunzel hadn’t been in her place, clutching her chest pitifully while the moonstone twisted her every vein, choking her every breath.

_You know you were not destined to grab that moonstone._

The voice was angry, searing- hot, and Cassandra could only squeak out a “Yeah, no kidding.”

_And yet now you are a corrupt sidekick, aren’t you? Not a hero. It’s not your story. As long as the sundrop doesn’t gain from it, you will achieve nothing._

Cassandra choked, dropping to the ground. Could the voice get to the point any slower?

_You want a point? You want it? If you want true victory, you cannot be yourself._

Cassandra’s airway finally cleared, and with it the sinking, undeniable feeling of agreeing with someone you do not want to agree with. Terrible feeling. Truly sinking lower than she had originally intended.

_Sink even lower, then, and let me do the work. Cassandra, the sundrop’s best friend and sidekick, cannot win at all. But I, I can make you win._

 The voice was right. Cassandra lowered her eyes. Her fists were clenched, but she did not allow herself any tears or uncertainty. She hated how much sense the voice was making- terrible, horrible sense. She was finally seeing; the only way was not her way at all. The only way did not include the real Cassandra.

Cassandra sighed. Here she was, about to give up to the mastermind of all villains. A last resort. To get rid of the curse, to save the kingdom, to be a hero, someone had to incite a greater evil. An evil that wanted only the sundrop and her powers, an evil that spared everyone else but her friend. An evil that would save the kingdom. 

The kingdom or a loved one? A choice that had been made twice already.

A choice that had already been decided by Cassandra long ago.

 “I have one final question,” Cassandra had a right to know that much, she figured, “Rapunzel, Varian, Eugene-what will you do to them, when the curse is over and done with?”

_Them?_

Memories of Rapunzel smiling up at her, not understanding things per usual. Eugene smirking as he feigned innocence against any allegations of hair-pulling and kicking. Varian beaming as he handed her the cassandrium.

_The boy has already been dead for over a while now. When the curse is over, he will return to his former state._

Cassandra could only lower her head, her eyes shut. Varian’s words- _After. It was cold. You were there._ She thought she had been angry at a living Varian, but as it turned out, she had only been angry at the dead. Did it make much of a difference?  She had been shouting at a person long gone.

_As for the others, you say? I need the sundrop’s power at any cost. She will not live after the curse is over. But as for the others, who knows? They might survive. I did not set the curse off. I do not know._

The voice was not lying. Whatever the voice was, it did not lie, not about the rocks, and not about people. Things really had gotten desperate somewhere along the way, hadn't they?

Cassandra stood up, dusting herself off. The sun was rising, higher still, and the snow that caked the kingdom did not surprise her. Another cursed day. That would change soon, hopefully.

 “I absolutely despise you,” Cassandra told the voice, “Giving me that power, then taking it away? Whatever was that for, fun? Educational purposes?”

_Both, I suppose. There is no other way._

 “Get rid of the curse, Zhan Tiri,” Cassandra finally demanded, “But don’t you dare touch the sundrop after that. It’s not over.”

If a voice inside your head could laugh, then it most probably did. Cassandra’s vision darkened, her fingertips losing all contact with the world.

_Oh._

_You were right, Varian._

_It is cold._

-

“It’s a curse, your majesty,” Eugene stood by Rapunzel, grasping her hand. The king in front of him, cool and collected, seemed to be more agitated by the minute.

“You set it off, Dad,” Rapunzel added. Eugene could see how frustrated, how angry she was.

“I do admit the kingdom hasn’t been in the best of states,” the king shot an exasperated look at the window in the throne room. The snow outside had never been more obvious, stark against the heavy velvet curtains. “But this doesn’t mean-“

 “We’re in a time loop,” Rapunzel cut in tiredly, “Day after day, the same day every day. Mom is the only one that knows, as far as I can tell. You mishandled the kingdom, Dad, and Varian’s death set it off, somehow, and now we have to figure out a way to stop the curse.”

Eugene watched as the king blinked in confusion. “I told you, I don’t know any _Varian_ ,” he exclaimed, his voice occupying the throne room, final and severe, “And there is _no_ curse!”

 Eugene gripped Rapunzel’s hand tighter. Her eyes were hazy, still, decided.

“I love you, Dad,” Rapunzel started, and looked up at the king in front of her, regal, imposing, a loving father, a trying father, yet an entirely unfit king, “But this has to stop.”

The conversation was over, and Rapunzel left the throne room, Eugene hurrying up to catch up with her.

“Hey, Blondie, are you all right?” Eugene knew that lip bite, these crinkled eyes.

Rapunzel looked up at Eugene. “I am.”

-

 The kingdom kept repeating its mistakes. Royalty had turned against commoners and scapegoated a fourteen-year-old. If there had been no one to blame, if Varian had stayed quiet and never kidnapped the queen, if the black rocks would have spread throughout the kingdom endlessly- it would have been all over for the King and the Queen. Perhaps they would’ve been overthrown. Perhaps they wouldn’t have had enough people in the kingdom by then to be overthrown.

And yet, as fate would have it…

 Rapunzel took a deep breath.

She would be the new Queen.

Not because she had to, but because she wanted to right a wrong. She would be a fair ruler, a ruler who would admit her faults without blaming a child for their repercussions. She would-

A voice stopped her in her tracks.

 “What are you doing here, kid?” one of the warier guards near the entrance of the palace crouched down to level with a wheelbarrow filled to the brim with apples.

“Oh, uh, apple delivery!” a nervous, shaky voice came from the stack of apples, and a mess of dark hair appeared from behind the apples.

Rapunzel instantly whirled around. That voice, that voice...

“Varian!” she blurted out, relief flooding in.

The mess of dark hair whipped round to face the princess, blue eyes laced with something unrecognizable. The hands on the boy’s wheelbarrow froze.

Rapunzel froze too. Something in these blue eyes made her hesitate, made her back off. There was something, something strange, something…

Varian’s hands twitched.

Where was his raccoon? thought Rapunzel. He usually always went everywhere with Ruddiger, day and night, sunshine or rain, unless-

Varian sighed.

“Princess,” all of a sudden, these blue eyes were vulnerable, fragile, the very same eyes that had pleaded with her so very long ago, and behind him the snow was relentlessly white, pure, angelic, “Princess, please, I **_need_** your help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya guys! Don't hesitate to tell me if the chapter was too confusing or such.  
> Also: are ya'll pumped for s3??? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


	9. Of Lost Things

“Well, no offense, but this is the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”

No one answered Lance, but he knew everyone around the round table agreed. The look on Rapunzel’s face was choke-full of guilt, yet she stayed firm.

“Why not?” she asked the other two, crossing her arms. She knew the offer wouldn’t exactly make anyone squeal with joy, but how bad was it, really?

“I mean, this can’t get any worse,” Eugene jumped in the conversation, his voice doubtful, “But, sunshine, you do realize you are still talking about a plan formulated by an enemy of the state? Ah, I mean, not to get too metaphorical but…. Aren’t we letting an arsonist save a burning house here?”

Rapunzel sighed. Eugene had always had a bit of a knack for hitting the nail in the head.

“You’re right,” Rapunzel stated, “We can’t let enemies make our plans.”

“Oh holy light of Corona, _thank you_ ,” Eugene pushed himself from the round table, smoothing his clothes, “Now, the situation looks to me-“

“We can’t let an arsonist save a burning house,” Rapunzel continued, silencing everyone, “Not unless the arsonist is dead.”

Eugene looked away.

 “Excuse me?” Lance broke the silence first, squinting at the lost princess with suspicion, “Did you just…. advocate for homicide?”

“No,” Rapunzel shook her head, her eyes trained firmly on the table, “I mean, Lance, that Varian died before we came back. The curse…for some reason it brought him back, then stuck the whole kingdom in a time loop.”

 The silence had become uncomfortably loud.

“Then you’re doing this out of guilt, princess,” Lance voiced what his best friend, who was not making eye contact, could not bring himself to say.

 Somehow, that had been the wrong thing to say. Rapunzel’s eyes were hazy as she turned to look at Lance.

“At least I am doing something,” the princess sighed, “That, I think, is more than just feeling guilt.”

 And with that, the double doors opened, and guarded by two compliant guards, the boy who had almost single handedly defeated the kingdom was guided in to help save it.

-

Eugene had always been the clear-headed one. Smooth as he was, laid-back as he seemed- Eugene was the logic one, the practical one. He had never been Cassandra- damn her, they _needed_ her here- who had always delivered the honest truth, but he lived the truth, acknowledged it, _knew_ it.

And the truth was in front of Eugene in the form of the boy who was sitting across him, with clouded eyes and red-rimmed eyes. Rapunzel’s hands gently, hesitantly, took the boy’s hand, partially hidden by his glove.

“Varian,” he heard Rapunzel whisper, “Your hands, they’re-“

In one swift motion, the boy had grabbed his hand back. Eugene jumped out of his seat.

 He could’ve sworn he had seen burns and wounds dotting the boy’s hand, but he was more concerned about the fact that the boy who had seemed so intent on destroying all of them was back, sitting in the castle, mere inches away from Rapunzel’s neck.

Lance tugged at Eugene’s hand. “She has this under control,” Lance whispered in a low voice, his breath hitching despite himself.

 Eugene gritted his teeth. The boy was looking at him, unconcerned, unperturbed. The apple farmer had disappeared, leaving in its wake something altogether different. Eugene didn’t like it at all.

“Listen, kid,” Eugene still refused to sit down, struggling to compose himself, “I’ll say this just once. You won’t find revenge here, wherever you search for it. I don’t know why you insist on helping us, on helping Corona, but just… know that if you take one wrong move-“

 “I die,” Varian’s voice was flat. His eyes rested on Eugene, then dismissed him altogether, finding Rapunzel’s abnormally calm eyes.

“Shall we start, Your Highness?”

-

The meeting continued without a hitch, and yet Varian couldn't help but replay the look of utter disgust and betrayal that Eugene had had. It reminded him of his once-favourite hero, Flynn Rider, the legend who had never put up with any sort of villainy.

 Varian had read _The Tales of Flynnigan Rider_ with his dad many times- and the most exciting chapter by far had been the chapter where the wandering Flynn Rider had come across a ghost wailing in one of the baron’s castles. The ghost had almost clean defeated the victorious Flynn Rider, wailing in disappointment when the hero had managed to trap the evil ghost in the Cellar of Doom.

 “Dad, why would the ghost _attack_ Flynn Rider?” five-year-old Varian had asked. His favourite hero was kind, generous, a person who could do no wrong in his eyes, so why on earth would that mopey ghost attack him? Varian’s dad had only smiled, a sad, loving kind of smile, the kind of smile you would give to those who did not know and should never know.

“Well, you see,” Varian’s dad had said, his fingers ruffling his son’s dark hair absentmindedly, “I guess it had nothing more to lose.”

\- - -

_Cassandra, Cassandra._

A magic door, a child’s voice calling out for her- Cassandra hadn’t been stupid. It had been the simplest set-up for a trap. The ABCs of a villain- make your victim curious, make them drawn. Moths and lesser insects are always drawn to the brightest light.

Is that why Cassandra had been drawn to Rapunzel? Before her, what _had_ there been?

Cassandra did not hesitate to enter the door. Her objective, as usual, had been short and to the point- _find Rapunzel, protect Rapunzel_. Her job, her responsibility, her destiny-

 Until the door had closed shut, snapping at her heels. She found herself running into some vines. Light glimmered from in between tall, towering trees. Great, a forest. Alright, fair play, her objective hadn’t been altered. _Find Rapunzel, protect Rapunzel, find Rapunzel-_

“Hey!” a sharp voice startled her, forcing her hand on the hilt of her sword.

A bushy-haired farmer was glaring at her, slowly putting down his basket of oranges. “Where in the world did you come from?”

“I…uh…” Cassandra stuttered.

“Hey, it’s you!” a hand suddenly grabbed Cassandra. Cassandra whirled her head around, ready to take out her sword and threaten-

It was a little girl.

“She’s my friend, sir!” the girl called out joyfully, waving at the disgruntled farmer, “We were just playing!”

The farmer softened up considerably, his shoulders relaxing and a fond smile playing on his lips. Suspicion was replaced with a wrinkle of worry in between his eyes.

“I’ve told you many times, child,” he chastised, “Don’t play around here.”

“I know, I know, sir,” the girl, chastised, hopped from foot to foot, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

The farmer sighed once more. “Just make sure you get out of here with your friend,” he finally retorted, glancing back at Cassandra, “The witch up there ain’t a friendly one, and it’ll be nightfall soon.”

 The girl thanked the farmer again, and pulled Cassandra away. Cassandra should’ve insisted on staying behind to find that door again, should’ve asked what the hell was going on, but something shut her up, and she followed the girl without protest.

 The girl whacked at the bushes with a stick, making a path with it. She seemed to be wandering deeper and deeper into the forest, something that unnerved Cassandra.

“Aren’t you going home, kid?” Cassandra asked. Where in the world was she? Not in that dratted house of something’s tomorrow or Corona, that was for sure.

“Nah,” the girl answered, stopping to scoff, “My parents are _way_ too worried about me all the time, like alllll the time too worried about me.”

“Ugh,” Cassandra glared at the girl, “I mean, they are right, you know. You’re walking around with a stranger in the forest. This isn’t a game, you know. You don’t even know my name and yet…”

“I’m Cassandra,” the girl stuck out her hand, her chin set.

_What._

Cassandra’s brain went on overdrive, desperately trying to make sense of things. This had to be a trick. There was no way, no way, this was real, because she had never gone into the forest alone as a kid, never remembered her parents. No, no, this was a different dark-haired green-eyed Cassandra, or this was just some stupid trick of Zhan Tiri’s or Matthew’s…

“Um, helloooo?” the girl peered up at her, “Did you hear me?”

“Huh?” Cassandra glanced sharply back at the girl.

“I said, we’re going to the witch’s house,” the girl answered excitedly, grabbing Cassandra’s hand, “And now that you know my name, you know who I am, and you don’t have to be afraid anymore!”

Too naïve. Way too naïve to be a younger Cassandra. Cassandra inwardly sighed a breath of relief. It was a trick. Now, how could she get out of it?

“All right,” Cassandra nodded at the girl. The sooner she got out of the situation, the better. “Lead me to this witch’s house.”

-

 

  Once upon a time, before the Queen had been blessed with a magic child, a single sundrop fell from the heavens unto the ground, and it was said to hold special powers, healing powers that could heal any disease, bring people from the dead. And yet, years and years went by, and nobody could find that flower, nobody had come close to it. Everyone wanted the flower, and yet nobody could get to it.

 That is, until a young witch devised a way to get the flower. A ruthless, terrible way- she would use somebody to get the flower for her. Her mentor, the old Demanitus, had hung the moonstone on the sky, afraid that somebody would use its powers for evil, even though few could channel the moonstone’s power without succumbing.

The young witch stole the moonstone, for she knew it would find its counterpart, the sundrop. All she then needed was a host for the moonstone, one who she would immediately get rid of afterwards.

The young witch was ruthless, greedy and clever- and somehow lucky. A little girl called Cassandra wandered by her house, and the young witch immediately snatched her. She was the perfect host for the moondrop, and she led the witch to Corona, to her long-coveted sundrop.

 The witch then had no use for the little girl. She had gotten rid of her then and there, and retrieved the moondrop. She had achieved all she had wanted and more.

And yet, as Cassandra lay on the ground, slowly fading, it seemed that the witch had forgotten something crucial.

The sundrop’s roots, warm and firm, had reached the dying girl in time, healing her, turning back time. The bad memories, the blood, all she had lost- Cassandra was no longer anything else other than an orphan girl in Corona.

 And yet, and yet- deep inside, Cassandra had always loved light, loved the warm way it filled the room and the soft way it fell on people’s heads.

The night Rapunzel was born, Cassandra had lit a lantern with her foster father, the Captain, her head buried in his shoulder.

“It’s warm,” Cassandra had said to her father, as they both stared at the lanterns floating in the distance.

 The Captain had only chuckled. “It is, isn’t it?”

Cassandra could only stare at the castle.

_Find Rapunzel, protect Rapunzel._

 “It is.”

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first draft for this chapter was titled "well" and if that doesn't sum this whole thing up idk what does. (◕‿◕) thank you guys so much for reading!   
> (also! season 3 hype, anyone??)


	10. Of Burnt Hands

 

 Cassandra burst out of the door, coughing.

“Cass!” a voice gasped.

The world spun for a moment, hazy, bright, but a face shone out from beyond, sweet, green-eyed, bright. She had been born only to protect. She wondered if it was fair. She wondered if it was destiny.

 A crushing hug made Cassandra aware of Rapunzel prattling on, worried, always worried. The sky was less blue, and the remains of the House of Yesterday’s Tomorrow crumbled away, defeated.

Loyalty was something Cassandra understood.

Loyalty was something that would always be Cassandra’s downfall. 

The moonstone was dangerous. Unpredictable. Powerful. 

And Cassandra, by the barest definition, wasn't.

\- - - - - - - - - 

 “Sunshine,” Eugene stood in front of his fiancé, “Listen to me, this is wrong. You know just as well as I that the kid will turn against us any second-“

“ _This_ is wrong?” Rapunzel’s voice was on the verge of cracking, “And leaving a fourteen- year- old for months on end alone with the corpse of his father wasn’t?”

“Blondie,” Eugene sighed, “We need to focus on the now, we need to save Corona, I-“

“You knew it was wrong too,” Rapunzel’s eyes found his.

 Eugene froze. His eyes, tired as they were, guarded as they always were, were suddenly a mirror of Rapunzel’s, flooded with guilt, overcome with the sense that as much as he had done good, he had also done nothing to prevent one small, small, tragedy, a tragedy that surely would not matter on the bigger scale, and yet a tragedy that had cost a young boy both his father’s life and his own.

“Eugene,” Rapunzel’s hands found Eugene’s, and she smiled up at him sadly, “You have always believed in me, and I am so grateful for that, but sometimes you forget that I believe in you too.”

Rapunzel took a deep breath.

“Which is why,” she set her gaze firmly, solemnly, on her fiancé, “ _You have to tell me when I mess up_.”

Eugene’s eyes found hers, and he sighed.

“I will,” he promised, and the smile she gave him, Eugene was relieved to see, was a tired, resigned smile, but a smile nonetheless.

He sighed. It wasn’t going to be easy, and he had figured that whatever was coming was not going to come without consequences. What consequences? What he didn’t think about probably wouldn’t happen.

 He just hoped he could stomach the nightmares.

-

 Dreams were short and fleeting, too good to be true and too nightmarish to be false. Dads melted away into puddles of amber, princesses’ voices echoed around long and twisting halls that had no end, idols stared down with disgust and fear, and he felt so very sick, so very faded.

_I don’t know why I’m alive._

 Varian woke up to a room that was not his, to a reality he wished was fake. The guest room Rapunzel had put him had high walls and cold floors. The light that shone from the towering window was unnaturally bright. Smooth polished furniture gleamed under the moonlight, sitting still like rows of obedient servants. Varian shivered.

_I want my Dad back._

How cliché. A year of screaming and pleading and hoping and he was back on square one. Or even worse? Varian didn’t know what being dead was classified as. There was no guide for being dead, he supposed.

He didn’t want to stay at the castle a minute longer, lounging in a soft, royal bed, being pampered simply because someone had felt guilty for him. Guilt was no stranger to Varian, and guilt wouldn’t bring back his dad or make the memory of the queen and Cassie’s cries as they got crushed by a red, flashing automaton any quieter.

It wouldn’t.

Varian kicked the soft, white blanket off him. The castle was quiet, waiting on another reset of a day. The halls were all sharp edges and shadows, and Varian walked down them, aware of every shaky breath he took.

_Varian._

 A face appeared from beside a flowerpot, pale and fading and frozen in amber, and Varian tripped over himself, stumbling as he fell hard on the ground. Blood pooled from his cheek and forehead, and he shut his eyes tightly and slowly opened them again, cursing. A pile of gold-embezzled clothes had been tossed near the flowerpot, unavoidably making said pile look like a face. Curses. He really was going paranoid.

“Boy?”

Varian froze. Down the long, cold hall, a real voice rang out, clear as day. _Oh no. No no no._

 “What are doing here at this hour?” the King’s stride was quicker than Varian had anticipated, and before he knew it, the King of Corona was peering down at him.

“Your-your majesty,” the title felt bitter in Varian’s mouth, but he swallowed it down, “I was just-uh, out for a stroll.”

“A stroll.”

"Yes.”

The King stared at Varian, and Varian stared back.

“Do usually bleed on strolls?”

“Yes.”

Before Varian could fully register enough of his surroundings to come up with a better bold-faced lie, the King had taken one of the golden cloths in the corner and, hesitating, pressed it against Varian's cheek.

 “You’re the boy, aren’t you?” the King’s voice took up all the air in the cold hall, and Varian squirmed underneath the King’s gaze, half- hidden in the shadows, clearly contemplating something. Contemplating what? There was nothing to contemplate anymore. Memory loss or not, Varian wasn’t playing the King’s game anymore. He had new plans. New strategies. The King would not be part of it.

Varian swatted the King’s hand away.

 “You don’t have to bother,” Varian hissed, gesturing to the cloth, which was now stained darker than its original colour, something that Varian really did not want to think about, “I-I died in _your_ dungeons, Your Highness. Whatever epitaph you want to deliver, I don’t- I don’t _care_.”

There was, not surprisingly, silence.

“I see,” the King finally sighed, and to Varian’s surprise, started ripping the gold cloth into long strips, “I supposed that might be the case.”

The King leaned down and started bandaging Varian’s forehead .

“I’ve heard-” the King’s eyes were thoroughly focused on the bandages, but Varian could see the edge of his mouth tugged into a grimace, “I’ve heard so many things about you, boy.”

Varian sat still. _What was there to tell?_ Not good things. Not positive things. Had there ever been good things? He couldn’t remember anymore.

The King tied up the bandages clumsily, finishing his handiwork up with a crooked bow. Oh, well. The night was drawing to a close, and soon enough, the world would reset and Varian would wake up in his apple orchards, the King in his throne room, both of them unblemished, one of them wiped clean. The ugly bandages could’ve not even existed.

The King’s face, lined with something irreversibly stern, darkened.

 “My daughter was stolen from me a long time ago,” his voice was loud, echoing through the hall, “I was the father of the lost princess for a long time. So much so, that-“

The boy and the King sat in silence.

“I suppose I forgot that I was not the only father in the kingdom.”

Varian stayed quiet, and the King got up.

 “I’m not sure what I can do, boy,” the King’s eyes were dark, “You’ve threatened my family, you’ve posed a danger to my kingdom. I worry what you would do if I lock you up, I worry what you would do if I don’t. And yet my daughter, my Rapunzel, she tells me things about you that-“

“Your Majesty,” Varian started, done, and looked up at the King. Dawn was approaching fast, and with every dusty ray of light the King’s eyes seemed to lose something, “Your Majesty-“

Blaring lights lit up the King, his eyes totally blank, and Varian heard- shrieking?- in the distance as the whole world filled up with white flecks. The day was restarting, and Varian’s words were soon lost among the roar of the blinding light that lit up everything that stood before him.

 _Your Majesty, you wouldn’t have to worry about me anymore soon_.

-

Varian woke up to the queen screaming as he stood over her, the chemicals in his vials cascading down her hands in slow, lazy trails, him pouring out every single drop.

The vials shattered as Varian dropped them, his eyes open wide at what he didn’t remember having done, his feet frozen in place. His voice could not work, and yet somehow, he heard himself repeating what he had told the King.

“You wouldn’t have to worry about me anymore, Your Majesty.” A sob escaped him, and as daylight filled the Queen’s room, cold and white, unnaturally so, Varian’s hands slowly became colder, paler, the tips of his fingers slowly turning into a sickly black colour. Decay. He should’ve known.

The curse was starting to break.

 

Time was running out.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my good boyz the amount of things that have happened in this chapter I'm tired.  
> And oh gosh thank you so much for all the hits and the comments. I'm so tired but you guys are great. Magnificent. 12 on the lovely scale. Absolute studs.  
> imma stop.  
> have a lovely day, dudes :D

**Author's Note:**

> had to google "what do you call a swordholder"
> 
> Not my proudest moment. 
> 
> Feel free to comment, even if it is to tell me I can't write for my life. 
> 
>  
> 
> also thank u for reading uwu


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